He was not how he used to be. Not after you left. Trafalgar Law, the top surgeon of the country, the striking beauty which stood out even among the piles of world's biggest names. Here he was, pouring his heart out to a chunk of clay.He could not give up on this. He had to capture your beauty again, to see your face one more time...He was addicted to this newfound activity, sculpturing. His slender hands trailed on the curves delicately, shaping your face, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"What have I done..."

His mind raced back then, when he yelled at you, when he shoved you off, that night on that bridge...His jaw clenched tight, he couldn't keep living with this pain. He grabbed his coat and dashed out, leaving for some 'fresh air', which made him end up on that same spot. The spot everything ended, the spot he ruined it, the spot he messed up the spot he took what was not his, he ended your life-

"STOP!!"

He shouted to himself in his mind, but it insisted on not doing as he pleaded. But one thing ripped him away from his agonizing thoughts...The sound of footsteps. The bridge was empty after all, it was abandoned, it was...lonely. Lonely without you. But there you were, his head snapping in your direction, his eyes widening as he realized who interrupted his solitude in turmoil. Oh how much he would give to be able to touch those curves of your face in flesh instead of some cheap clay...